


Falling From Grace

by Summer Pinkleton (The_Ending_Sea)



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ending_Sea/pseuds/Summer%20Pinkleton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo Brae has decided to raise her late sister's two children. ... Not going as well as she's hoped. ---- This is my first work to publish on AOF3, so any feedback would be wonderful. I hope you stay for the journey. I'm sorry I can't summarize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling From Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Jo Brae had decided to take on the responsibility of raising her late sister's two children, Jamie and Sophie. ...It's not going as well as she hoped. With Sophie's overactive imagination taking her on adventures in school and Jamie's ever-the-cliche rebellious teen nature, what's a guardian to do?

**_Disclaimer: Unfortunately for this writer, she does not own Rise of the Guardians or its characters. The only ownership she has is the O.C. (s). Hopefully, instead of being out-of-character, it stays true to the character. Please stay with me as I struggle to write and continue on with this piece_ **

* * *

****

The golden spirit gazed down at the tiny bundle and gave a soft smile at the button nose, the hint of violet around the iris. He ran a glittering hand over the tuft of brown hair.

He wouldn’t say that he was eager to show parental love but it was always difficult

The golden spirit gazed down at the tiny bundle and gave a soft smile at the button nose, the hint of violet around the iris. He ran a glittering hand over the tuft of brown hair.

He wouldn’t say that he was eager to show parental love but it was always difficult to stop holding a child once he started. It was a problem though, he was touch starved and needed the affection.

Sure, there were connections that he would make with the children through dreams but being the Guardian of Dreams, called for availability. His sand gave him a way to reach all of the children without ever being too particular. However…

No, it was a good thing, he told himself. He would never feel any pain when they would get older and stopped believing in him. It could never hurt to become an idea… Then he would simply float onto the next child. It was like a sweater; one could throw it off if one didn’t care for it.

However, the sleeping babe that was snuggled against his falling chest was not a piece of clothing

She was a special thing; more than his mermaids who kept him company on his island. More than the chattering Warrior Queen, the Furry Alien and the childlike Russian. It wasn’t a shame for him to have thought that way.

For, there in his arms, was the child he had been watching over since before continents were made and seas named. A dear, little girl whom, since Manny had first passed her into his waiting arms, slept.

For centuries that was all she ever did; sleep. She never aged like the other children, meaning his sand could always touch her. She never cried. He had reveled in the sweetness of her sleepy-sigh. She was the humanity perched on his glowing shoulder; from her that he had learned the care and true nature of his role.

After a millennia, he had approached Sandy and woke her from her deep slumber.

And there was the problem; her being awake.

Well, it wasn’t a problem for Little Lace but for the Sandman.

He had to find her a home.

The task itself was not difficult. Emotionally, however? … People always say that your ‘first’ is always the hardest to forget, especially if one of those individuals is a Guardian.

His Nocturnal Magnificence, Sanderson Mansnoozie. Sandman the First, Lord Protector of Sleep and Dreams, had always been, by nature, the most peaceful of Guardians. He had learned in his years that no matter how many disappointing, unintelligible (mostly from his end) conversations and no matter how many times he was forgotten, that being upset was something he could not afford to be.

Over Lace, however, he decided that he could be selfish, he would be difficult, he would be upset.

The sleeping babe had been in his custody for centuries; by his side for centuries.

The moment that she had come into his life, Lace had become his everything. He had ignored the tittering mermaids and would care for her. He sent her extra waves of and to give her pleasant dreams. He had traced every inch of her birthmark that had run along her skull like a wreath of flowers, with the softest of touches. He had cooed over her and rocked her. He had never strayed too far.

Maybe he could reason with Manny.

Lace could learn to understand his silence.

North; he could flood her rooms with hopes, fill her with joy and wonder.

Aster; he had had kids once… Maybe Lace could soften the tough edges of the Furry Guardian’s interior.

He could get clothes from Tooth. The Warrior Queen had always wanted a little girl. …Not that Lace would be _her’s._ Then again, maybe he could share. … _Did he really want to share her?_

_He would have to…_

This wasn’t fair…

He deserved to watch her grow, to see her first stumbling steps. He deserved to laugh and cry with her.

The babe glanced up at him, shivering in the October night-winds. Her eyes, the darkest brown he had ever seen with a soft shade of violet running around the iris.

He felt his chest tighten at the thought of how her memories wouldn’t start with him but another.

Sanderson let his shoulders sage a little as he wrapped her tighter in the pink wool.

… He knew those things could never come to fruition. As much as he would like to think that this child could sty. Humans rarely if ever stayed with spirits.

He shook his head (He had a duty to fulfill) and floated down Tagore Avenue. He floated to the house with the loneliest, little girl. She dreamt every night for a little sister. Maybe… Maybe this family could…

If Manny thought that this was the best for the child then it was for the best.

His was a father’s selfishness, a child’s wariness, which could have no place in the matter.

After all, he was the bedtime story and she was part of what humans called reality.

* * *

 

**_“I put her burnt bones in my mouth and swallowed them whole.”_ **

**_– Cheryl Strayed_ **

It had been about seven months since Jo Brae had become a permanent fixture in the Bennett children’s lives and Jamie still couldn’t get used to the woman.

It wasn’t that she was mean. Nor was it the fact that she was incompetent in caring for them.  In fact, he should have been grateful because unlike some kids in his situation, she was family.

 He never knew why or how but she always managed to rub him the wrong way.

Jo was so frustratingly comfortable in her own skin. It was difficult for Jamie (as it was for his mother) to explain but one could tell by the way she walked in her overly-baggy clothes and ran her soil-covered fingers through her too-short hair, that she knew herself.

She made Jamie feel uneasy with her too loud laugh-snort which showed off her two front-teeth, large and white.

The way she smelled of water and fresh-cut grass. The way she wriggle her nose in a bunny-like fashion.  The way she thought of tea as comfort and talked about plants like they were people. The way she talked to the T.V. or how she made every meal vegetarian. The way she had painted Sophie’s room, green; Sophie’s favorite color and didn’t bother touching their mother’s bedroom but instead the guest room. The way she knew Jamie didn’t like to be touched, without him having to say anything.

All of it made his insides raw and it made him wonder vaguely if this was what his mother felt.

He pushed himself from one of his many late assignments and into the sofa’s plush cushions with a sigh. He glanced up into the brightly-painted-yellow kitchen where his sister and Jo were making coconut-chocolate-chip cookies; another annoyingly vegan recipe that the vegetarian had found online. 

His aunt was dressed in her usual sweats with soil-covered feet from stopping in the small garden that had taken a portion of their backyard. Sophie had dressed herself in her favorite pair of green jams with poorly stitched dark green froggies. Both of them had chocolate smeared on their faced and hands and talked softly over cups of tea.

Jamie didn’t know by what means but somehow the woman had gotten the soda-based middle-schooler into tea.

“Do you think Tooth will visit me tonight?” Sophie asked animatedly, peaking up at Jo from under her unruly bangs. 

Jamie rolled his eyes and shook his head. Great, now she had given the thing a name.

Only his sister would believe that the Tooth Fairy was still real at the age of ten.

“Didn’t Tooth visit you, two weeks ago? _(Great, now she was playing along!)_ Unless there’s another tooth there ready to fall out, I think it’ll be a while before she come again,” came a tired chuckle in the soft brogue of their mother’s father.

 He could only barely remember the slight tithe in his mother’s voice. It had never been as strong as Jo’s… Or had it, and he just couldn’t remember?

“Why don’t you guys wash up for dinner? I’ll set the table.”

“But what about the cookies?” Sophie whined as Jo pulled out the blue-glass plates from a nearby cabinet.

“They won’t be ready till dinner. Go on.” Jolie called having already set the plates and forks _(Like setting the table for three people was hard)_ and going for her mug.

“Why do you let her continue to believe in that shit?” Jaime asked as Sophie drifted down the narrow hallways, toward the bathroom.

“You aren’t going to wash up? Quite unsanitary of you, if you ask me.”

“Things like fairies, sandmen and Santa Clause…Those things don’t exist. They never existed. So why fill her head with that nonsense?”

 “There was once a time you believed in that ‘nonsense.’”  Jolie responded with a soft voice. He could feel the knife in her words; the fine line between disappointment and anger.

“Well I grew up.”

“I let her believe in whatever she wants to. What would I look like saying something to her about it? Who am I to take away that from her? Just because you think you have all your views together and want to “Grow up” doesn’t mean that you can try and force her.”

Jamie stilled in placing the salad on the table. In her words, he found his own regret. He felt he had forgotten something important. There was a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that he had. It hadn’t stayed for long but for a few moments. He wished he could go back, apologize, but his pride kept him silent.

“You’re letting your loss eat you up inside.”

“Those things don’t exist.”

“Can’t you just be happy that her smile reaches her eyes?”

He felt her eyes burning, hot iron jutting into his sides. He could spot the soft violet around the iris; the age of years that had yet to come written in the brown of her eyes; a spark that had been his mother’s.

* * *

 

**_“The girl in the mirror wasn’t who I wanted to be and her life wasn’t one I wanted to have.”_ **

**_– Francesa Lia Block_ **

The small brunette muttered a list of “To Do’s” as she ran a wet hand through her hair before glancing up, almost nervously, at the toothpaste-polka-dotted mirror. Jolie gave herself a large smile, the largest she could muster before her stomach gave way. She immediately rushed to the tub’s edge and hunched over, her hand frantically reaching for the faucet to mask the sounds of her retching.

She didn’t do it often; the vomiting. It happened time to time. It always gave her the sense that something had reached in and yanked hard on her insides. She chalked this all up to the phone call from this morning.

Did he need to come back now, want them now?

She began to tap her foot, wishing that somehow the bathroom carpet would rip itself from under her and a hole would envelop her, take her somewhere far and green, like her dreams.

She shook her head.

 It didn’t even matter. Well it did but there was a job to do, a mortgage  to pay (she was late), two kids to feed, a house to straighten out, dishes to wash – her list of responsibilities were endless.

“Joey?” a small voice called, a hand knocking against the door causing the brunette to jump.

Jo rolled her knuckles against her forehead, grazing against the birthmark that sat at the peak of her forehead.

Her nerves were shot. _Great._

“Yeah Soph?” Jo coughed out as she poked her head from behind the bathroom door, her face brightening with splotches of red.

Sophie furrowed her eyebrows.

Jolie gave Sophie a face-splitting grin, the kind the ten-year-old was used to seeing. There was no need on worrying her.

“The bus is here…” Sophie said, her eyebrows still crumpled together.

“Shit! I knew I forgot something!” she groaned as she scrambled for her cluttered bag, immediately digging out money. “Five for you. Five for Jamie.”

“Why don’t you throw that bag away?”

“H-Huh?” Jo asked, her eyes squinting in confusion, money tight in her hand.

“It’s ripping. Why keep it, if it’s ripping?”

Jo glanced down at the worn pleather of her purse, the zippers on the lower pockets no longer working, stuck on the inner fabric. It had a slight hole in the corner, a couple of stains on the strap and the ‘gold’ turned to a ‘new penny’ kind of look – only cause she polished it after some yogurt had fallen. … Honestly, she didn’t know why she kept it – still it had lasted her this long. Besides, with what money was she going to buy a new one?

Jo shrugged before pushing the money into the girl’s hand. “Please don’t waste it on junk food Soph. We can’t afford another visit to the dentist!” They really couldn’t…

The middle-schooler looked up at her aunt with a large smile, a gap where one of her bottom teeth were still missing. “Tooth wouldn’t mind too much.”

“You kidding me? It seems like that fairy would have a heart attack.” Jo could understand where Jamie worried. Sophie, as of late, talked more and more about fairies and such but Jo couldn’t bring it in herself to stop the girl’s ‘over-active imagination’, as the school counselor liked to call it. Weren’t kids supposed to have a healthy dose of fantasy? Well, at least Sophie never went farther than to tell a few stories.

“You’re probably right… But come one, it was my FIRST EVER cavity!” Sophie exclaimed as she let herself be hurried off colorfully painted porch. .

“And I want to keep it that way! Mr. Anderson said you guys could stay until I get off.” The brunette called from the gate. Afterwards, maybe they could see if Mrs. Anderson would give them any leftovers. _God, what kind of life am I living?_

“I don’t see why we can’t watch ourselves like normal kids our ages…” Jamie huffed as he snatched his lunch-money, taking an extra “one” from Sophie’s extended hand.

“Hey!” the blonde screeched, dashing after the teen who was bolting down the street towards the yellow school bus.

“Remember! Come to the bakery afterschool!”

“Tough luck on that happening lady...Jamie’s got plans after-school.” a voice muttered, she could hear the sulk in the voice.

Turning around, Jo Brae blinked, a flash of silver and blue… She felt another waves of nausea wash over her and gripped her head.

* * *

 

“Hey there, Jojo!”

Jo grimaced at the nickname with a pen clenched between her teeth as she balanced orders on stretched arms. There was only one person that called her that. _What could he possibly want now?_

The only person who ever called her ‘Jojo’ was Ezekiel “Zeke” Pyrde. Zeke was an old classmate from high school. She remembered vaguely that before their junior year that he hadn’t had blonde hair and he was on the track team. They hadn’t been particularly close for Jo to say that she knew him. Nor had it been that large of a school where she couldn’t recognize the man.  They were strangers, in all sense of the word.

However, three months later in her freshman year of college, she realized that he was in her Statistics class and that was only because he had stopped her in the hallway for some help on the homework. After that, he continuously came for help and unfortunately for Jo, thought of her as his friend.

Jo responded with a weak smile, pen still in mouth. There were five more orders to distribute and it wasn’t even lunch time. Not to mention the call that had been replaying in her head the whole morning. She really didn’t have the patience to deal with him today. So she wouldn’t, she decided with a determined nod as she started to dart around the café.

“What’s scrambled up your craw and made you so miserable?” Zeke asked as he followed her around, giving a smile to a passing couple with a wave.

Couldn’t this guy get a hint? _Then again, this is Zeke, we’re talking about._

Zeke was the type of person who was not a person one could easily ignore. He had ways of pushing and pushing and pushing till he got his way.

“What the fuck is a craw?”

 “If you have to ask what a craw is, then you probably don’t have one.”

“Thank god. Sounds like some kind of disease.” Jo said as she rushed off to the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes.

“Don’t you guys have busboys for that?”

Jo wrinkled her nose and sighed. “It’s a small establishment. What’s the need to staff busboys?”

Zeke just sighed and leaned against a nearby counter. He gave a flip and his golden hair was flying everywhere.

Jo immediately grabbed a nearby pan and slapped his arm, hard.

“Ow that hurt!”

“You need to either put on a hair net or tie your hair up! This is a kitchen not a fucking runway!”

“You think I’m pretty enough to be on a runway?” he asked fluttering his long lashes her way.

“As if you could be a model.”

“But I’m pretty right?”

“Ugh, Zeke! What are you doing here?”

“I won’t tell you, unless you tell me I’m pretty.”

“You’re pretty…”

“You’re so insincere that it hurts.”

 


End file.
